


Home Is Far; Your Arms Are Here

by seekingsquake



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: Maybe... maybe if they have a sleepover, thinking about home won’t hurt so much. Maybe if Lance keeps him wrapped up, Hunk will have the courage to look out the window.





	Home Is Far; Your Arms Are Here

**Author's Note:**

> The bookending quotes are from the song The Day I Lost My Voice by Copeland, and the title comes from the song Elephant by Milk & Bone.

_What could be an anchor here_

_With a storm on the rise_

_When you’re never meant to see so clear_

_When smoke gets in your eyes_

_And the man in the moon_

_Never makes his replies understood_

 

He laughs, and he cooks, and he snarks, and he builds things. He pets the mice, and he jostles Lance around, and he lifts Pidge onto his shoulders so she can reach some wires on the underside of a ceiling panel. He gossips with Allura, and he trains with Shiro in the gym, and he listens as Coran teaches him about Altean customs that none of them will ever see. He tells jokes to Keith, and then explains them, and then laughs if Keith tells a joke back.

He doesn’t look out the window. He doesn’t think of home. He doesn’t miss his family.

Hunk used to think he was a good, honest person. And then he came into space.

Now, he isn’t so sure.

✫✫✫

“Do you think we’re ever gonna make it home?” Lance only talks like this when everyone else is asleep; when he knows that nobody will be around to hear him except Hunk, and Red. Red listens for Lance always, and differently than Blue used to. Lance thinks Red is judging him, comparing him against Keith, and it makes his eyes tight in the corners and his actions reckless in the field.

Hunk is pretty sure the only person comparing Lance against Keith is _Lance,_ but some things are best not said aloud.

He doesn’t want to think about it-- about ho--

The Castle might as well be home now. “You tired of space travel already, dude? I thought this would be right up your alley.” He chuckles, and he keeps dicking around with a gizmo that Coran gave him, and he doesn’t look Lance in the eye.  

But Lance knows him better than anyone else out here, maybe better than anyone else ever, and Lance says, “Holy shit, you think we’re dead in the water.”

And Hunk feels guilty because he does think that. He thinks that even though they’re all fighters, and the universe is resting on their shoulders, and none of them will ever give up. But. They’re... they’re just kids. Hunk doesn’t even know how long they’ve been out here, doesn’t know if he’s turned eighteen already, or if he hasn’t yet, or if he’ll die before he gets there.

Maybe they’re all going to be just kids for the rest of eternity. Maybe his body will float aimlessly out in space until it gets smashed by an asteroid or sucked into a black hole. Maybe he’ll grow a beard, and his hair will go grey, and he’ll die of old age, still not knowing if he’s turned eighteen yet. But he can’t... he can’t tell that to Lance. He can’t tell that to anyone. So he says, “Does it matter if we get back? You know the Garrison already told our families we’re dead. They mourned for us. Would going back do any good?”

“We’d be heroes,” Lance insists. “They deserve to be proud of us, don’t they?”

Hunk doesn’t want to think about his mom being proud of the fact that he shot someone to death with a laser gun. Not his mom, who always told him that the best revenge was a head held high and a happy smile. “I think being in space is cool. Look at all the stuff we’re learning! Look at all the stuff we get to see. It’s like, better than the movies and all the dreams we had as kids, you know?”

Lance stares at him, his mouth open a little and his eyes wide with concern. “Dude--”

“You hungry?” Hunk asks abruptly. “I could use a snack or something.” He doesn’t move though, and Lance doesn’t stop staring at him. It’s been a long... however long they’ve been out here. Hunk never wanted to be an astronaut. He never even wanted to be a pilot. For as long as he can remember he’s been afraid of heights, and of going too fast, and of being too far away. And now here he is, fighting a war in outer space by piloting a giant fucking mecha lion that somehow reads his mind.

He tries to block out Yellow’s ever-present rumbling, but sometimes it’s the only thing that doesn’t feel like it’s coming directly out of one of his nightmares.

“Hey,” Lance murmurs, reaching out and wrapping a gangly arm around Hunk’s neck. “Hey.”

He used to be so afraid that he would vomit during flight simulations. He doesn’t know if he’s scared anymore, or if the fact that the hair is always standing up on the back of his neck signifies something else. But his body has adapted, and he doesn’t throw up anymore. Even when aliens are trying to kill him. He doesn’t know if he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to be.

Nobody else acts like they are, and he... He can’t be the weak link. He can’t.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispers, wrapping himself around Hunk as much as he can. When they were kids, they used to have sleepovers in Hunk’s backyard, and Lance would always get cold in the middle of the night. They’ve been cuddling since they were six. It shouldn’t make Hunk feel safer; it shouldn’t mean anything, but.

It does.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Hunk confesses, his voice thick with-- what the fuck? When did he start crying?

Lance squeezes him. “You’re not. I’m right behind you, man. And if-- fuck, if anything happens to you, I swear to God, I’ll still be right behind you.”

“You did not just make a suicide pact with me,” Hunk chokes.

And Lance, what a little shithead, he laughs. “I can’t go home without you, are you kidding? Your mom would fuckin’ murder me.”

Maybe... maybe if they have a sleepover, thinking about home won’t hurt so much. Maybe if Lance keeps him wrapped up, Hunk will have the courage to look out the window. “You really think we’re heroes?”

“You’ve always been one to me,” Lance admits quietly.

“Even though I’m a fucking scaredy cat?”

“Because you’re one,” Lance teases. He tugs a little on Hunk’s hair, then presses their foreheads together. “You’re so fucking scared, and you never let it stop you. That-- That’s really fucking heroic, dude. So, like. It’s okay, hey? It’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

“Okay,” Hunk murmurs. Okay. He’s so, so scared. But he lets his eyes slide past Lance, and he looks out the window. And space-- space is--

It’s really beautiful. Dying out here, maybe never eighteen but with Lance right behind him... maybe that would be okay.

But. Maybe, if they fight hard enough, maybe they’ll make it home.

 

_For a moment I was warm and_

_the world made sense_

_For a moment here, this storm_

_Had no consequence_

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling sad, so I wrote this. I still feel sad, but it's whatever.


End file.
